


A Battle Not Worth Winning

by royal_chandler



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royal_chandler/pseuds/royal_chandler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy is betrayed by the flex of her fingers as they curl into a solid thing in Angie’s hand, fitting like a finality. Battle lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Battle Not Worth Winning

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I'm surprised that it took me this long to write something for them. They're so wonderful.

Peggy’s used to battle, it’s been a long while since she hasn’t had to fight one, where she hasn’t met the day and stood in position at the frontline. She doesn’t brace for it any longer, welcomes the barrage of insults and the demeaning remarks that dig into her because tough skin takes root over the places you give a chance to let hurt.

Woman is spat out of men’s mouths with the intent for her to shrink and whispered out of a lady’s in concession, worse in reprimand.

There’s a map from the back of her thighs to the broad of her back, bruises the color of plums.

Peggy knows battle and yet here she is with no clue as how to fight against Angie’s smile. At one point she knew but, to the same effect, at one point Angie was little more than a brash waitress who asked too many questions, and that’s a time that’s difficult for Peggy to recall now. Angie only grows, deepens in meaning to Peggy. The intimate space between them feels inevitable and Angie’s words don’t catch Peggy by surprise despite the quickening of her heart. Her blood sounds so loud in her ears and in the quiet hallway.

“I shouldn’t,” Peggy starts automatically. There’s hope in Angie’s eyes but all Peggy sees is the potential for a loss of light in them. “It’s been a long day and you have to pull a double shift at the automat tomorrow. The last thing we need is alcohol in our systems. You should get some sleep.”

Angie’s mouth twists. “That hasn’t ever stopped us before or are you back to giving me brush offs? Thought we were past that, English. Am I wrong here?”

Peggy opens her mouth to lie but Angie is on her fast, pressing a kiss that feels a lot like shared cigarette smoke, dangerous and soft, too fleeting. She has little chance to return it but takes that little and lets go of Angie’s lip in a slow drag.

“I don’t think that I’m wrong here,” Angie whispers after she draws back to a modest distance, confident. 

Peggy looks her over. Angie is a small woman, tucked in a light blue blouse and navy sweater with a grey a-line skirt hiding her knees. All of it completed with a pair of respectable Oxfords. A flower is pinned to the side of her head, dark curls loose around it. She’s beautiful but that’s obvious to any fool with eyes. In a way Angie’s nothing like what has caught Peggy’s attention over the years. She’s overly optimistic, she’s chatty, and she’s too trusting but Peggy wants her—her bravery, conversation, and her belief. Her courage to take a risk by expressing her desire for someone of the same sex. Angie never does anything that Peggy anticipates and that is the most dangerous thing about her. 

“Interest you in a nightcap, Peggy?” Angie asks again. She puts her hand out.

Peggy is betrayed by the flex of her fingers as they curl into a solid thing in Angie’s hand, fitting like a finality. Battle lost.

They don’t take their time getting the door open, flipping on the switch, and Peggy misses the touch of Angie’s hand when it’s gone in search of something to drink. She places her purse in the empty spot of Angie’s tiny bookshelf. It once housed four paperbacks but that hasn’t been the case since a short time after Peggy moved in the house.

Angie walks up to her with sweet smelling alcohol in coffee mugs. “Whiskey and butterscotch schnapps. Help take the edge off.”

“There’s no edge,” Peggy says but accepts the drink anyway.

“Hate to break it to you, honey, but you’ve always got a bit of an edge.” She sips from her cup before continuing with a smile. “You’ve done this before, right? I mean, I don’t mind teaching but I’ve had these daydreams behind the counter and you’re not shy in any of ‘em.”

And Peggy can’t help laughing because it’s such an Angie to say, completely unfiltered with the freedom to be herself in this small flat. “I don’t believe that you’ll be disappointed, no.”

“Wouldn’t be disappointed with you either way,” Angie replies, matter-of-fact.

That statement wills Peggy to put down her cup. She wanders over to Angie and sets aside hers as well. She brackets Angie’s face with her hands, kisses her properly, deeper than the one outside allowed. Angie tastes like hard candy, tastes hot and heady underneath that. The kiss is open-mouthed and Peggy doesn’t stop until she’s familiar with Angie’s lips, her teeth and tongue. She grips Angie’s waist and puts them together flush, goes back for more over and over again.

And Angie gives as good as she gets. She’s a fighter, Peggy’s always known. One of her hands are a fist in Peggy’s hair and the other is so tight in Peggy’s top that it’s probably ruined a button or two. 

“Jesus Christ Almighty,” Angie gasps in a rare moment in which they’re separated. Her blue eyes are wild, lashes long as they flutter on her high and crimson cheekbones. “Never been kissed like that in my life.”

Peggy kisses her again and thumbs the corner of her mouth after. “You don’t deserve anything less.”

“So romantic overseas,” Angie says dramatically, belying the genuine fondness in her smile.

Peggy rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” Angie dares.

Immediately, they’re at it again, surging in at the same time and it’s difficult to keep the noise quiet, here in the early stages, yet. Peggy can clearly recall the last time she’s been effected this profoundly but this moment with Angie is sharper, cuts in a new area that’s going to be just for her. The scent of her perfume subtle but in every breath that Peggy draws in, her body is pliant and harsh in equals turns, and each time that their mouths meets, Peggy is falling a little more.

Want roaring in her belly like a desperate fire, Peggy finishes the job of loosening her blouse. She lets it slip off of her and she unzips the back of her skirt, watches Angie mirror her actions. And Angie doesn’t ask about after the discolorations that decorate her body although worries flashes in her eyes. It always does these days, Peggy long having convinced her that she doesn’t have an abusive beau and Angie taking that for the truth that it is but concerned all the same.

Chest heaving in a black bra that looks all but simple on her, Angie gestures to the bed, holds out an open palm once again and it’s no hardship for Peggy to follow her lead, lie underneath her. She parts her legs for Angie to get in between. Seconds tick away and Angie is still above her, her blue gaze unflinching.

“Are you getting shy on me now?” Peggy asks lightly. She reaches up and gently removes the dahlia hair clip from Angie’s silk-like hair. She places it on the far side of the narrow bed and strokes Angie’s hair back. “What’s the matter? Do you want to stop?”

“No, no, that’s crazy talk.” Angie shakes her head. There’s fear in her face. “I just—I don’t want a one-off. Because Peggy, I gotta be honest with you, I can’t see myself going back. Not after. Can’t imagine being with you in anyway that isn’t this.”

It’ll be a secret on a pile of many, one more that she’ll have to manage carefully. This one more so than the others because it's so much more important. Angie barely knows what she’s signing up for and Peggy should stop this right now. This is an out that Angie is giving her and Peggy should grab onto it with her bloodied hands. But she doesn’t want to be alone again. She’s tired of being left alone because the world can be so horrible and to face it alone once more, to have Angie face it alone again is especially cruel. None of this is fair. What would she be sacrificing this for? Angie is with her every day nearly; aside from touches, kisses, sex, and the fragility of Peggy's heart, nothing is truly changing.

Angie searches her apprehensively. “Thinking of a fancy way to say no?”

Voice breaking without her permission and a stinging behind her eyes, Peggy admits, “I don’t want to hurt you, Angie. That’s the very last thing to do.”

“So don’t,” Angie tells her softly. She presses their foreheads together. “Hmm? Don’t.”

“I’ll do my damnedest,” Peggy promises fiercely, kissing her deep and long.

“Makes me a lucky woman, then,” Angie says when she pulls away, her smile moving to Peggy’s cheek.

Peggy doesn’t have the audacity to answer that, she just sucks hard on the top of Angie’s breast while reaching around the back of her to undo the clasp of her bra. Once she’s rid of it, she goes back to marking the pale flesh with her mouth as Angie bites back her moans. Peggy spends a generous amount of time there, relishing the responses that it draws out of Angie, sees how sensitive she is when Peggy flicks at a nipple with the tip of her tongue, pulls at it with teeth.

“Oh fuck,” Angie groans, thrusting forward in Peggy’s lap, her arms wrapped around Peggy’s neck. “Feels so good. Want to—” she stops until Peggy is looking at her. “I want to make you feel good too, sweetheart.”

Peggy will never get her breath back from this woman. She nods, settling on her back once more. “Okay.”

Angie begins at Peggy’s throat, kisses down to her clavicle and breasts before licking her way to the start of Peggy’s knickers. She peels them off and soon is nosing between Peggy’s spread thighs. She touches Peggy with curious fingers before licking into her with a talented and curling tongue, ravenous and unsuspectingly obscene. Peggy can’t place her fingers in Angie’s hair because it’s too good, good enough to hurt, so she fists the blankets around her and bucks into Angie’s greedy mouth, teeth gritted and body singing.

Peggy doesn’t cry out as she comes, not with the thin walls they’re boxed in so she kisses Angie messy instead, tastes her own wet. She gets Angie off as well, twice, fucking her violently with two restless fingers until Angie clenches hard around her and runs red stripes over Peggy's bruises.

It's silent later. Peggy is holding Angie and regret is holding Peggy when their legs are tangled in sheets. 

“You promised,” Angie sleepily reminds her. She nuzzles under Peggy’s chin. “We—you fight against enough already. Why are you fighting against me when you don’t have to?”

“I don't know how to live any other way,” Peggy says softly. "It's going to be hard."

Angie snorts and kisses her chaste, so very sweet. “Life’s hard. I’m not stupid, Peggy. We’ll have to be careful and hide ourselves but that’s all the time in the world we’re living in. We’re geniuses at it by now. Just clock out for a minute, hold me for a little while longer and then I’ll be in 3C like a good little girl, alright?” 

Peggy sighs and offers a small smile. She watches Angie’s eyes close. “Little girl, my backside.”


End file.
